Marius’s face echoed light and humor. “I mean, look at me! You made me look so different from myself. I look like a handsome, mysterious man from the woods. I look like a model from a commercial! How did you do that?”
Willa let out a wry laugh. Her lips ached with the desire to press into his. “This isn’t a lie, Marius. This is what you look like!”
Marius sipped his cocoa and rolled his eyes. “You put a filter on it. Something. Whatever. Show me the rest.”
Willa complied, showing him the rest. Throughout, she couldn’t help but watch real-life Marius’s expressions as he watched commercial Marius on the screen. It was clear he’d never seen himself the way the world saw him. Had he always disliked himself? Was that it?
Willa’s heart went out to him.
But when they’d finished their cocoa, Willa was overcome with the desire to flee. She wondered if Marius thought she was going to stay—stay for dinner, at least—and wasn’t sure she wanted to get tied up in something so complicated. Her mouth went dry. She stood and made an excuse. “Things with my sister are strange, and, yeah, she needs my help down at the fudge shop.” She took a step toward the door but felt herself pulled back toward him.
She decided that she would stay if he asked her to.
But Marius wasn’t the type of guy to get in the way of her family problems. “Of course. Amelie needs you,” he said, taking her dirty mug and walking to the kitchen. “I can give you a ride into town. No problem.”
Willa fought the urge to kiss him again. She wondered why she couldn’t let herself give in.
All the way to Caraway Fudge Shoppe, Willa’s chest banged with fear. They didn’t speak much, and Willa let herself engage with the dark sky and twinkling stars. It was rare to have such a clear night like this in mid-December, a night that wasn’t burdened with snow clouds. It felt magical.
When they reached downtown, he slowed the horses and smiled at her. “I hope that isn’t the last I’ll see of you, now that the commercial’s done.”
The idea terrified Willa. She had to see him again. Soon. But she didn’t know how to ask, so she said, “I’m sure we’ll run into each other.”
“Good night, Willa,” he said.
“Good night.”
Willa got out of the carriage and waved as he turned a corner and went out of sight. She checked her phone for the time: almost seven, which meant that she could still help Amelie with cleanup. But when she reached the big display window, ready to run inside and pick up a broom, she stopped at a beautiful sight: Amelie and Pascal, scrubbing the glass counter, eating slivers of fudge, and laughing together. Willa was moved. Rather than interrupt them, she backed away from the glass, thinking back to those lost evenings, when she and Amelie would watch their mother and father through the glass window, closing down the fudge shop, their eyes echoing their love.
But as she walked down Lake Shore Drive, adjusting her gloves on her hands, she wondered what it was about Amelie that allowed her to welcome Pascal’s adoration—and what it was about her that couldn’t accept Marius’s.
Was Willa permanently broken?
Chapter Eighteen
Amelie
December 2025
At four in the morning on the first day of the Christmas Festival, Amelie was already in the kitchen of the Caraway Fudge Shoppe, working tirelessly on fresh batches for the day ahead: gooey peanut butter, white chocolate macadamia, yum, yum, yum. She had to fight her urge to eat it all up. Luckily, in the previous days, she’d worked ahead a bit and was already mostly stocked for the morning’s first onslaught of guests. However, it was impossible to predict how many tourists would attend the Mackinac Island Christmas Festival. Back in her childhood, the streets had been swarming.
Now, she blinked the fatigue from her eyes, smiling to herself about last night: another evening at the jazz club, Pascal with his saxophone, she with a glass of wine and a bursting heart. Perhaps they’d stayed up too late, given the days she had ahead of her. But she reasoned that she could sleep come January, afterall the stress of the holidays was over. Her primary focus was on the fudge shop and ensuring it would survive the rest of the year.
It was remarkable that after so many years alone, she had people to look forward to seeing. She had responsibilities that didn’t relate to the creative chaos in her mind.
She felt as fresh and clean as the newly fallen snow outside.
As she made the fudge, she checked her phone for messages from the rest of the Caraway family, all of whom had agreed to pitch in at the fudge shop during the week of the festival. Grandma Mary had told Amelie that no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t possibly be in three places at once, which was a necessity for the festival goings-on. There was the fudge shop, but there was also an outdoor festival stall that sold fudge on one end of Lake Shore Drive, and a that-week-only dessert option at a fancy restaurant, all offered by the Caraways. Someone had to manage that, as well. “Here comes the big Caraway family to the rescue!” Grandma Mary had said, tucking Amelie into another warm hug.
Sure enough, all of her cousins, uncles, and aunts had confirmed where they would be and when, which freed Amelie’s mind up for other topics: namely, her sister and why she’d been avoiding her. Ugh. It was the last thing she wanted to think about. But it always crept back in.
Amelie hadn’t seen Willa in person since the dinner they’d had at their childhood home. Amelie was the first to admit that the evening hadn’t been ideal. They’d gone in with no information and left with nothing butyour father is sick, and nobody knows what it is or if he’ll get better or if he’ll ever be able to handle the fudge shop again. While Amelie felt her anger toward her father dissipating, she imagined that Willa’s wasn’t. Maybe that was why Willa was keeping her distance, burrowing herself in her work.
Amelie knew better than to demand that Willa reel in her anger. It was a personal choice. Or maybe it wasn’t even a choice. Perhaps it was a matter of the heart.
More than that, just because Willa and Amelie had spent a few nice hours together didn’t mean Amelie felt Willa owed her anything. That wasn’t how love worked.
At eight thirty, the sun shone down on the island, illuminating the snow-lined streets. Amelie unlocked the front door of the fudge shop and stepped into the chill, watching as the Christmas Festival Committee set up their stalls, brewed coffee, and greeted one another happily. Christmas music jangled from speakers that hung from light poles. The first ferry was about to come in, bringing in the early rising tourists. Amelie had decided to open the fudge shop early to accommodate them. Who didn’t want fudge for breakfast?
